


all flowers in time bend towards the sun

by oryx



Category: YuYu Hakusho
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:46:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is still here, wherever <i>here</i> is, waiting for something she can't put a name to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all flowers in time bend towards the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scheherezhad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherezhad/gifts).



> This ended up being really disjointed and weird. My apologies. D;

Shizuru smokes her first cigarette at fifteen.

 

She’s skipping school with her best friend Kaori and some third year boys from East High, typical teenage thugs whose names have long since faded from her memory. They’re sitting beneath a highway overpass, weeds growing up between the cracks in the cement, empty beer cans strewn haphazard around them. The walls are decorated with bright, colorful graffiti, curse words and gossip and obscene drawings curving around each other, creating a chaotic work of art.

 

One of the boys asks her if she’s ever smoked before, and she lies and says _yeah, of course_ , ‘cause who wants to be the odd one out when you’re fifteen? She puts the cigarette between her lips and he leans over – lights it for her with a subtle, expert flick of his wrist. And in this moment the flame is reflected in his eyes, and she thinks she sees something there, something mysterious and secretive, some hint of danger buried beneath his guise of normalcy. Maybe he too feels the back of his neck prickle in the dead of night, when everyone else is sleeping. Maybe he too sees shadows flicker in the corner of his eye, but when he turns there’s nothing there. Maybe he too hears whispers in the dark – strange, sad voices that sound so distant and yet so very close.

 

But the moment ends as quick as it had come, and the boy turns away, laughing overloud at Kaori’s stupid joke. And Shizuru is left with nothing but a mouth full of acrid smoke and a terrible sense of foolishness and loss.

 

(To her credit, she doesn’t choke. Not even once.)

 

\--

 

\--

 

Kazu gets in a fight at school, the ninth one so far this year, and Dad’s too busy at work to go pick him up. Shizuru cuffs him on the ear when she gets there, grumbling at him for being an _ungrateful little bastard, I know school sucks but just put up with it, will you? We need at least one high school graduate in the family._ She gets him in a headlock and suddenly Kazu goes all quiet, like there’s something heavy weighing on his mind.

 

“Hey, sis,” he says. “D’you believe in ghosts?”

 

Shizuru releases her hold on him and takes a step back, studying him curiously. They’re out in the courtyard in front of the school, and the sky above them is a blank grey slate, with the promise of rain on the horizon. A faint, ominous wind combs its fingers through her hair.

 

“What the hell?” she murmurs. “Where’d this come from?”

 

“I just… I dunno.” He shrugs and lowers his eyes, scuffing his shoe in the dirt. “Sometimes I just feel like… like…”

 

“Like you’re being watched?”

 

“… Yeah,” he says, and glances back up at her, brow furrowed. “But also it’s kinda like I’m waitin’ for somethin’, y’know? Waitin’ for somethin’ other than… than _this_.” He makes a broad, fluttery gesture, his mouth twisted into a frown. “Probably sounds weird, right?”

 

“No,” Shizuru says quietly. She sighs, and lights up a cigarette, and puts a hand on her baby brother’s shoulder. “It doesn’t sound weird at all.”

 

\--

 

\--

 

\--

 

The man is impeccably dressed, with a long, jagged scar down the right side of his face. His posture is relaxed; his stride full of purpose. He smiles at her and she knows, instinctively, that he is a killer – cruel and sociopathic, without a hint of goodness in his soul.

 

And yet.

 

“You should be careful, miss,” he says. His voice sends shivers down her spine – soft and languid, concealing a razor sharp edge. “We humans are in the minority here.”

 

He turns to walk away, and she can’t help but think of her favorite films – yakuza flicks, where the men all have slicked-back hair and Italian suits, and the smoke from their cigarettes curls around them like a lover’s embrace. Where men live and die by a code, and “honor among thieves” is a law to be upheld, and one must give thanks for every moment, because who knows when your time will be cut short?

 

Shizuru has always said to herself: _Men like that don’t exist in reality._

 

(It’s a good thing, then, that “reality” no longer applies.)

 

\--

 

\--

 

“I always wondered how people could be so blind,” he murmurs. “How they could go about their pathetic, meaningless lives so oblivious to the world around them. My mother told me once that there was no such thing as monsters, so I shouldn’t be afraid of the dark. And I remember just… laughing at her. At her ignorance. It was infuriating. How dare she tell _me_ what lay in wait in the shadows?”

 

He takes a long drag of his cigarette, and Shizuru stares at him, unable to tear her eyes away. It’s around dusk, and the fading remnants of light make him look more like a demon than a fellow human.

 

“It wasn’t so much that I hated them. They were too pathetic for such things. Scorn, though… Yes, I had plenty of that.  It was scorn for all those simple-minded people that drove me to actively seek out death. Death was, at the very least, a reprieve from the endless tedium.

 

“… I wonder,” he muses aloud. “Was there ever any hope for me? Am I inherently rotten to the core? Or perhaps, under different circumstances, could I have been like you: normal, at least on the surface, but deeply unhappy beneath?”

 

Shizuru glances down at the stadium below, gradually emptying as the day’s fighting comes to a close. The shadows are lengthening – hands of darkness stretching their fingers across the earth.

 

“Unhappy?” she echoes, but when she turns to question him, he’s already gone.

 

\--

 

\--

 

\--

 

Halfway through Botan’s rousing semi-drunk speech (who knew the Grim Reaper could get wasted?), Shizuru has to excuse herself. She slips out onto the balcony and lights up a cigarette, letting the soothing nicotine calm her. It’s cold outside – refreshingly so – and a light snow is beginning to fall, the kind that gets stuck in your hair and eyelashes.

 

Kazuma’s going to college. She’s happy for him, and proud – proud that he’s made something of himself, proud that he’s living a good life instead of what could have been. But there is another part of her that is petty; jealous and full of resentment. Her brother is moving ahead and she is still here, wherever _here_ is, waiting for something she can’t put a name to.

 

“Shizuru-san? Are you alright?”

 

Yukina has a bad habit of materializing out of thin air, Shizuru thinks. Must be some kind of strange ice spirit ability. The girl is suddenly right next to her, a look of concern on her face.

 

“Ah… Yeah, I’m good. Just a little… overwhelmed, I guess.”

 

“Overwhelmed?” Yukina tilts her head to the side inquisitively. “That seems very unlike you, Shizuru-san. You have always been so calm and composed in the past.”

 

Shizuru laughs, and is surprised at how genuine it sounds.

 

“Trust me,” she says, “I’ve been anything but.”

 

They stand there in silence for a long moment, watching the snowflakes twirling down from the sky. And then Yukina reaches out and touches Shizuru’s hand, fingertips brushing against her skin oh-so-softly. Her touch is cold as ice, and Shizuru can’t help but jump just a little.

 

“You always trace the letters,” Yukina murmurs.

 

Shizuru opens her hand to find the lighter there. She could’ve sworn she put it back in her pocket, but there it is all the same. And upon closer inspection, the letters “SN” seem far more worn than they were those few years ago, their golden sheen fading slowly into black.

 

“I think you do it unconsciously,” Yukina says. “You never seem to notice, Shizuru-san, but I do. I always notice.”

 

\--

 

\--

 

She has a recurring dream. It goes like this:

 

She’s back at the arena, with the walls crumbling down around them, except this time they’ve switched places. She can feel dust and debris settling in her hair; can feel the vibrations beneath her feet as the place begins to collapse. He is standing just a few yards away from her, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, flicking his lighter on and off, on and off, like a beacon. He is saying something to her, important words, but his voice is lost amidst the ever-increasing rumble.

 

And then she is buried beneath the wreckage of the stadium, and she can feel herself breaking, being shattered and torn and pressed down into the dirt, unable to draw breath. It doesn’t hurt, though. She is dying a terrible death but merely feels numb, and a little sad, because his last words to her are forever lost. The darkness presses in around her. She is suffocating. She is –

 

“Shizuru-san!”

 

She jolts into wakefulness and finds Yukina staring down at her, wide-eyed and frightened.

 

“What’sa matter?” she mumbles, rubbing at her eyes and stifling a yawn.

 

“Shizuru-san, I was at the library earlier and I read on the con-pu-tir screen – ”

 

“Computer,” Shizuru corrects automatically.

 

“ – that cigarettes are bad for your health! They can cause…” Here, Yukina reaches into her pocket and takes out a piece of paper, which she then proceeds to read from. “Lung cancer, high blood pressure, C-O-P-D, em… emphy…”

 

“Emphysema?”

 

“Yes, that one! And a lot of other terrible things besides! I… I don’t want you to be sick, Shizuru-san. I don’t want you to die.” Yukina is sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap. Her blue hair falls across her face like a curtain, but Shizuru can imagine her expression: anxious and fretful, biting her lip nervously.

 

“Ah jeez,” she mutters, and hangs her head in defeat.

 

\--

 

\--

 

It’s early morning, that in-between hour when the night still lingers and the world’s colors are muted and soft. The beach is empty save for them. The surf washes over their feet and pools gently around their ankles, tugging at them as it recedes once more.

 

Yukina smiles at her, and squeezes her hand reassuringly.

 

Shizuru throws the lighter into the ocean and never looks back.


End file.
